One Last Time
by FirstThingsLast
Summary: Scientists have engineered the science of the Death Date . The moment a child is born, DNA samples are taken from the child, as well as the parents to determine the exact day the new life will end. Stan Marsh is what they consider an Early, dying before the age of twenty. All he can hear is Kenny yelling "Own that shit!". AU. Follow Stan through his last official day of living.
1. The Last Smile

**_Copyright to Matt Stone, Trey Parker and Lance Rubin._** ** _Main pairings; Style, Stendy, Candy._** ** _Plot line; Stan has tried to live his life as a good, likable guy who jokes about his early death like it's nothing. With his inevitable demise around the corner though, he starts to believe that maybe he's taken life far too lightly. Twenty-four hours left and a mission, Kenny urges him to "own that shit", reminding him its not too late to become a legend. Too bad he didn't warn Stan that love triangles, gun fights and strange black spots were part of this so called "living" thing._** ** _Rating M for language, sexual themes and inevitable death._** ** _Please review and don't hate Stan._** ** _000000.0000000.0000000_**

Tomorrow, I will die.

That is tomorrow though, not today.

The day started off much differently than I was used to. The first difference was apparent when I inhaled deeply through my nose, a strange combination of scents greeting my still groggy mind. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what the smell was, but it was familiar to the point of nostalgia. It was somewhere in the realm between comforting and concerning, the latter only because it wasn't one I generally woke up to. This one was much sweeter than the smell that lingered in my house. Not to say that my house smelled bad, just not as nice.

My eyes refused to peel open and I was almost convinced that they'd permanently crusted shut. My brain was already throbbing dully against the inside of my skull. The source of the ache was the same reason I'd slept a little too well, it was all thanks to the 'Stan is totally not dying' celebration. I felt like I was resurrecting from my endless years of sleep in my neatly sealed tomb and not a comfortable bed. And when I say comfortable, I mean that I didn't know a bed could be so comfortable.

My tired limbs stretched as I decided to pursue the mystery of where I was. In the process, I heard footsteps from behind me somewhere, presumably outside the room, and a woman's voice. The voice gave it away and put an end to my detective work.

"Good morning, Kenny! Did you and my bubbie have fun last night?" I could make the words out thanks to the shear volume of her voice. My eyes pried open but all I saw was a wall before they shot closed again. The intensity of the sunlight pouring in through the window at the foot of the bed sent a sharp pain into my skull, making my headache so much worse.

"Yup! Thanks so very much for having me!" Kenny always laid the glaze on thick when he spoke to our parents. They always believed he was this little angel, but he was probably the complete opposite. If we were doing something bad, nine times out of ten, it was his idea.

From the short dialog and glimpse of the Einstein poster on the wall, I'd gathered I was most likely in Kyle's room, possibly in his bed. Well, not possibly, I definitely was. I'd been in his bed before, but we were children then and fit comfortably on the small twin mattress. Now, it seemed a bit awkward, two seventeen year olds in a bed. Here I was though, possibly lying beside him.

I think it'd be less awkward if we didn't have this weird relationship. It was pretty obvious, or so Kenny said, that there was built up sexual tension that made being close harder the older we got.

I slowly blinked my eyes open again as a knocking filled the room. "Bubbie, are you and Stan in there? He has to get doing soon if he doesn't want to be late. Sharon will raise a fit if we don't leave soon too."

Oh, right. My funeral is today. It was at three though, could it possibly be that late?

The mattress shifted behind me, catching my attention. I peeked over my shoulder, my best friend, in fact, beside me. "Morning, Kyle." I muttered.

"Morning." he rubbed his eyes with balled fist, sitting up, still snuggled in his thick blanket. His hair was disheveled; red, messy waves framing his face. One of his hands fell to his lap, the other holding his head. "We're coming, mom. Sorry." He called out, voice crackling from lack of use.

"Okay! Come down when you're ready. Hurry though! We have to take Kenny to his house to pick up his suit." she said, the floorboards creaking under her weight. Footsteps soon trailed off though, fading as they carried her towards the kitchen.

"Man, we really got obliterated last night." I turned over to face my best friend, the rest of the room coming into view behind him. So organized and clean.

He shook his head, smiling a little bit despite the pain. His lids opened slowly to reveal bright, green eyes. His gaze trailed to me. "All I remember is Kenny making us play beer pong. You were so awesome at it even though you never played. He was so mad because apparently he's been playing for years and still lost to you. It was so funny."

I couldn't help but smile, he always made me smile whenever I saw him happy. "A-ha, that sounds so rad, dude. I wish I could remember that."

"That's really all I remember, he made me play after he lost. I couldn't even make one cup so I drank a lot right away." He laughed, running his fingers through his messy locks.

I stretched out a bit more, shifting the blanket in the process. "We must have been really messed up if we decided to share the bed. It's been fore--" I trailed off as the blanket slid off of him, revealing his bare torso as it fell in his lap. Like, no shirt at all, which was really weird since Kyle was shy.

He looked down at himself, seeing where my eyes were stuck and making the connection. He blinked a couple times, eyes suddenly widening before he hurriedly tugged the blanket up to cover himself again. His face started to turn red, his expression one of shock and embarrassment.

This made me painfully aware of why I was so comfortable. I felt extremely naked now that I thought about it.

I scrambled to sit up beside him, lifting the blanket to peer underneath. Sure enough, I was pretty damn naked. Great. Just what I wanted to do my last night of life; cheat on my girlfriend with my best friend.

I very much liked my girlfriend too! Like, she's not the cheat-on worthy type, if that was even a type. If it was, it shouldn't be. No one deserves to be cheat on except maybe me after this crazy shit. It wasn't even that I didn't like Kyle, I very much liked him too. If it was under different circumstances my mind would be screaming 'Hell yes! You finally did it! Praise the lord, I can now die happy!'. This was reality though. The only reason Kyle had slept with me was because we were both obliterated and I was definitely still dating Wendy.

"So...uh..." I couldn't really form words in this moment, dumbfounded by the situation. My mind was trying to think of reasons why we'd be naked and laying together aside from the obvious. I just didn't want to believe this.

"Yeah..uh.." He partially mocked me, looking down at his fingers as they fidgeted together in his lap. "I was a virgin."

"Kyle..I'm sorry." This only added to the awkwardness. If I wasn't dying tomorrow, I would have time to sort this out. The most we'd done was kiss in eighth grade. It wasn't romantic. We started talking about our first kisses and how awkward they'd be. We figured if we took each others lip virginity, it would make us less nervous when the real thing came. Normal bro stuff, ya know?

"Its not like I regret it. I just wish I remembered it." he said softly. "I might have been upset if you weren't...ya know.."

There was the pity. I'd gotten a lot of that lately. "Yeah, I know. It's okay. Let's get ready."

He smiled but it wasn't as bright as usual. It wasn't contagious this time. I knew he was sad. Maybe it was because we'd finally done the big deed right before I'm supposed to die, or maybe it was because I was going to die with Wendy as my significant other and not him.

"Yeah.." he muttered, letting the blanket slide off of him as he stood.

His full figure stood before me, a rather nice view. He was skinny, but it wasn't like a scrawny skinny. His stomach was flat, waist thinner than his hips from behind. I really swore he had the best body out of any guy I'd ever seen. Normally, I wasn't into guys, but he wasn't a normal guy. He was shorter than me by at least five inches, his face still as cute as the day we'd met. He was like a girl but without the awkwardness.

I couldn't tell Wendy, but he had a nicer body than her. It would kill her self esteem if I voiced this out loud, so I would never. Even if she did call my legs short.

The seriously fucked up part was that I would probably sleep with Kyle again if I had the chance. It kind of felt liberating. I'd never slept with Wendy because she was set on saving herself until the perfect moment. Apparently, that moment hasn't come yet, even though we've been dating for three years. I never tried to make her because I've tried to live my life as a good guy who always does the right thing. Who was to say that being with Kyle wasn't the right thing all along, and by some weird irony, I had figured this out the day before I am destined to be buried in the ground.

Before I know it, he is fully dressed in a rather nice looking dress suit, smoothing his hair out in the mirror. He'd sneak glances at me in the reflection every so often.

I slid off the bed, following in suit. All I had were my clothes from last night, so they had to do until I got to my house. "Hey, uh..do you hurt..?" I was concerned, really.

He stopped mid comb, turning to look at me instead. "I don't think we should talk about this ever again."

I finished pulling my last article of clothing on, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't think that it was that wrong, Kyle. Besides, I don't have much time so 'ever again' is really only twenty-four hours, if I'm lucky."

Angrily, he sat his comb down, letting out a loud sigh. He shook his head, making his way to the door and unlocking it. "It's better for everyone that way." he mumbled before disappearing into the hallway.

I'm not exactly sure what he meant but the words swirled in my mind regardless. I couldn't tell if it was what he said that bothered me more, or the way my stomach started to churn. Without warning, my stomach rejected the small amount of contents left inside of it, bile rising in my throat. I hurriedly got up and ran for the garbage can beside his desk but didn't make it in time. Instead, stomach acid, along with half digested snacks from last night and schnapps, spewed from my mouth and all over the wooden surface. Oops.

I tried to be sneaky about getting something from the bathroom to clean it up with, but Kenny caught me in the hall. "You guys good? You both look kind of gross."

I ignored him for the most part, only earning a shrug as I grabbed a towel from the rack beside the toilet. I figured in a list of importance, Kyle's desk was above a towel.

Luckily for me, I didn't throw up on anything important thanks to Kyle's tidiness. I wiped a majority of the gross liquid mix from the table top, gagging a couple times but not quite enough to vomit again. In the process, I noticed a couple pictures beside his computer monitor. One was of him, his parents and his brother recently in Canada. I almost forgot they'd gone there for a vacation last year. I think that this picture made me sad because it reminded me that they all had the same death date. It wasn't for twenty five years, but it still seemed depressing. They'd definitely die unnaturally. Whether it be in a car accident, a plane crash or a mass shooting.

The second was of our whole graduating class, also a new picture that was taken for the yearbook this year. Me, him, Kenny and Cartman all stood in the back. Kenny was being his usual self and making a ridiculous face. Cartman was glancing at Butters beside him who looked as if he was on the verge of falling of the bleacher. Me and Kyle were all the way on the end, along with Wendy. She held my hand tightly, smiling widely at the camera. Kyle one had one of those small, sad smiles on, hand holding onto the sleeve of my shirt on the opposite side. I hated how normal and plain everyone else looked. So I moved on.

The last picture was of us as children, somewhere around nine or ten, standing outside of Whistlin' Willie's, arms slung around each other. It was Kyle's birthday, a paper crown on his head to signify this, the same paper crown in his closet somewhere. Kenny is looking at the camera, smirking like he's got some big secret that he'll never tell anyone. Suave even as a child. This was right after he'd stopped wearing his hood on and instead exposed his face all the time. Cartman was to his right, eyes fixed on the ground as discomfort takes hold of his expression. He'd eaten too much that day because the food was free and ended up throwing up the entire night. I couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

On his right was me and Kyle, holding each other especially close. He looked the best in this photo. He always said that night was one of the best he'd ever had, even to this day. It defined our group, set our friendships in stone. He smiled so hard that his eyes curled into happy crescents atop his features, pearly white teeth completely exposed. Even then, he was the brightest, in color and in mind. My eyes were focused on him, a smile of my own in full blossom. It was like all I could see was his happy expression. That was all I saw now.

Tomorrow, none of it would matter, though. I wouldn't be able to see him smile like that ever again. I'd cease to make these kinds of memories. I wondered if it ever really mattered at all.

I'd acted like I'd come to terms with my early death, joking about it for years.

Staring at this picture though, barf towel in hand and the sound of Kyle talking to Kenny outside the room, I stopped over thinking.

For the first time, I was scared.


	2. The Last Shower

**_Warning; Sexual Content_** ** _00000.00000.000000_**

My grandpa told me about a time when people didn't know about their deathdate, before scientists found a way to tell when you were going to die. This was a time when people held funerals after their loved one passed and not before. I don't know what the point was if I couldn't be there to experience my funeral. Celebrating around a dead body is pretty disgusting. It also left too little time to plan and rent out a hall.

That was the way I airways thought anyway. Now I wish I didn't know at all. Maybe it was better not to know.

"Look who decided to spend time with his family before he dies." My mom said bitterly from the porch as I walked away from Sheila's house, offering a wave as a 'thank you'.

Kenny stuck his head out of a window on the second floor, that goofy smile always plastered on his lips. "Go easy on him, Sharon! It's not like he's gonna die today or anything!" he joked, laughing at himself before disappearing back inside.

Me and Kenny were always like that, laid back and joking about things that weren't supposed to be funny. Kyle always scolded us, but he was more the serious type. Joking helped us cope, in a way.

We had become friends at a very young age. Kyle was my neighbor and Kenny had a deathdate a month after mine. I know that sounds really deep, two best friends who were destined to die together, but it wasn't actually. We had become friends because he found out I had an early date, just like him. He thought it was a good bonding topic, which it obviously turned out to be.

Back then, it was no big deal. We were seven when we met, we both had ten years to worry about dying. Here I was now, though, dying tomorrow. Kenny would die exactly nineteen days after me, just before his eighteenth birthday.

My mom always acted more angry than she really was, embracing me as soon as I stood close enough. I think she was just mad that I hadn't been home to wake up in my bed for the last time. She smelled the same as always, wearing a blouse on top, but ordinary pants on bottom. She was half dressed but already covered in her usually perfume.

She pulled back, face scrunched in disgust. "You smell terrible."

"Gee, thanks mom." I roll my eyes.

"You know what I mean. Now go inside and shower, we need to hurry if you wanna make it to your funeral on time." She said, hands sliding down my arms and back to her sides before she turned to walk inside.

While showing up to my own funeral late sounded really fucking badass, I decided I didn't want my loved ones to have that as one of their last memories of me.

I walked in behind her, my dad sitting in the living room in a spot that was visible from the doorway. He gave me a silent nod, only looking long enough to do so before turning towards the TV again. I don't think this whole 'Stan is actually dying' thing hadn't settled into his head yet.

At the top of the stairs, Shelly was just emerging from the bathroom. Her newly straightened, white teeth emerged from behind plush lips. She had been nicer to me since she'd moved out, which wasn't saying much since she had been home a total of six times since.

"Hey, Stan. Where ya been?" she asked, opening her arms for a hug. I was sure I'd be getting a lot of awkward hugs today, maybe even from people I didn't remember.

I embraced her for the shortest time possible. "I was with Kyle. Did you just get here?"

'I slept with my best friend' seemed more appropriate, but that wasn't something I exactly wanted to share with my sister. "Ah, that turd." she muttered, standing in front of me awkwardly. She shifted her weight a few times as if thinking of something to say.

"I'm gonna..ya know..get ready now." I said, thumb pointing towards the washroom she'd just left.

All she did was nod. I tried to suppress my anger for her because she was my sister and I'd rather not make her regret all her life choices before I die, but she knew I would die tomorrow and she really could have been better to me. I understood when we were younger, but after the age of sixteen I thought she'd chill out.

I made my way into my room, looking around at everything for the first time in my life. I took in every detail because this might be the last time I ever see my room. My fingertips ran along the poster on the nearby wall, the texture of the paper gliding against my skin. They then trailed to the paint on the wall, which was much more bumpy.

The room came this color, a dark purple. Mom always insisted we could repaint it once I got older, but I liked it too much. That and me , Kyle and Kenny had drawn in random spots. I couldn't rid those memories. Not that they would matter soon.

Breaking from my thoughtful banter, I pulled my suit from the closet, trudging to the shower afterwards. My last shower ever.

I started the water, waiting for it to warm up before stripping my clothes off completely. I peered at myself in the mirror, noticing a nice, purple spot at the base of my neck. No doubt a hickey. I quickly began to rub it as if it would come off but it didn't budge at all. I prayed my suit would cover the splotch because if Wendy saw it, she would murder me. Maybe that's how I die.

With the thought of Kyle in my head, I stepped under the water, enjoying the sudden warmth. I really couldn't help but wonder if I should tell Wendy. If I did, it would definitely be the end of our relationship. To be broken up with the day before I die would kind of suck. It was also pretty shitty to die with a lie on my chest though.

All I knew was that Kyle was far more sexy. Don't get me wrong, I thought Wendy was hot too, but it wasn't the same sort of appeal. She was only an inch or so shorter than me, and didn't really have much of a shape to her. She lacked in most departments, but I was dating her for her personality.

I pressed my forehead to the tiled wall, eyes sliding shut and vision replacing with the image of my best friend naked in his room. I could imagine what it felt like to hold those thin hips as I moved in and out of him. If he really was a virgin, it had to have been tight.

My hand trailed below my waist, gripping my hardening length.

I bet his face was twisted in such pleasure, eyes half opened as they stared up in my direction. His rosy cheeks were probably even more blossomed, lips parted as wonton sounds left plush lips.

My grip tightened, pace quickening.

I wonder if I held his arms down to keep him from hiding his face or muffling his moans. Was I rough with him? Were the sounds of skin on skin loud enough to hear in the next room over? Maybe he even liked it. Maybe it even made those moans escape his throat louder. Those plump thighs wrapped around my waist, lips finding their way to the base of my neck. His teeth escaped from behind his lips and pinched the skin.

I let out quiet noises as the pressure built below my waist, too close to breaking point to stop myself. I didn't care if anyone heard me, a bomb could go off and I still wouldn't stop.

Soon enough, I felt something more warm than the water splatter across my stomach. I let out a dreamy sigh, eyes blinking open as I looked to my now soiled skin. This was seriously wrong, thinking of Kyle like this, especially when he wasn't the one I was dating. I felt guilt wash over me as I came down from my high.

That feeling was soon overtaken by fear when I noticed a large black spot on the top of my thigh. I first thought it might have been another hickey, but when I began to rub it, I knew it wasn't. It was certainly too big and dark to be a hickey but I didn't want to believe it was anything else. It didn't hurt, so it wasn't a bruise. So what exactly was it? Is this the reason I die...?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, quickly cleaning up and turning off the water. I couldn't look at it too long without possibly throwing up again.

I'd thought a lot about how I might die. I was healthy, so it had to have been in some freaky way. A car accident? Murder? I kind of always wished for something cool like that and not just pneumonia or some lame shit. I think that this black spot was filed under that 'totally lame' category.

I tugged my suit on, having trouble thanks to my water slicked skin. With a few hops, bounces and wiggles, my pants and white button up were on. This suit smelled new, which wasn't weird since we'd bought it for my funeral and burial.

Before I could slide the suit jacket on, I heard a familiar tone sounding from somewhere in the room. My phone; I was getting a call. I scrambled to find it, digging it out from the pocket of my discarded jeans on the floor. It was Wendy.

"Hey, hello?" I answered, holding the receiver to my ear.

"Ah, Stan! You answered!" she sounded a little surprised. "Your funeral is today."

"Yeah, I already know that." I say with a little more annoyance than I meant.

She was silent for a moment, making me swear I heard sniffling. I really hoped she wasn't crying. "You sound really mean right now."

I know she's not wrong, I am being kind of mean. "I'm just really not happy about dying tomorrow, is all."

"Oh, I thought maybe it had to do with last night." she muttered quietly.

"Last night?" I had no idea what she was referring to so I could only hope she filled me in.

"Yeah. You were really drunk. Do you not remember?"

"I really don't." I admitted.

"I just didn't want to, you know, do it with you when you were so obliterated."

I was silent for a minute, mouth agape as I tried to think of how to respond. "Oh.."

"Yeah, I really didn't want our first time to be like that." she nervously laughed. A nervous laugh was better than crying.

"I agree, I agree." I nodded.

"You didn't last night. You were so pushy."

I groaned, embarrassed. I was really so pathetic. Trying to pressure my girlfriend into having sex and then sleeping with my best friend when she didn't. "I am so, so sorry. I was so drunk. I'm an Asshole."

"No, I feel super lame for not doing it. There's not much time left so it's not like I can wait much longer. I just thought it'd he better if you weren't drunk." she tried to explain herself even though she didn't need to.

"Yes, yes. I agree." I really was the worst.

"I'm relieved because you were asking me things like 'don't you think I'm awesome?' and 'I think you're the coolest girl ever'."

"Wow, okay."

"I really do think you're awesome and funny and really just amazing. I just--"

"I'm sorry I'm so lame." I was pinching the bridge of my nose, the most embarrassed I'd ever been.

"I like your lameness! I like you." she said softly. I could hear how shy she was, even over the phone. It was so cute. "So, how was the rest of your night?"

Waking up beside Kyle immediately popped up in my recent memory. "Uh...I don't really remember anything." I wanted to change the subject again, but I really didn't know how. "I--"

"Stan! Are you almost done?! We have to go right now!" Mother dearest screamed from outside the door.

Wendy laughed. "Your mom sounds really fun right now. I should let you go~"

"Yeah, I'll see you at my funeral."

"See ya." She says cutely before I hear a click and silence.

I almost felt good like I always did after our conversations. Then I remembered that I tried to pressure her into having sex and cheated on her when she said no. Then I proceeded to rub one out to the thought.

"Stan! Let's go!" Mom yelled once more, making me swear my head was splitting open.

I feel like I just woke up and so much was already unloaded onto my shoulders, not to mention I will now have to go deal with a crowd of people who are 'so sad' that I'm dying of a mysterious black spot.

What a great last day.

 ** _000000.0000000.0000000_** ** _I hope that you guys don't hate Stan!! He's dying, you can't really hold it against him, can you?_** ** _I really love reviews so let me know if you like this so I can continue. Funeral next chapter, about to drop the effing mic._** ** _Copyright to Trey and Matt._**


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